Nephilim
by angel-lover elysian
Summary: When Chas Kramer is pulled back from the cusp of heaven, he isn't ready for his sudden entanglement with the archangel Uriel. Yet she is his only comfort. So when he makes the biggest mistake of his life, and perhaps even causes Uriel to be cast out from
1. Chapter 1

**When Chas Kramer is pulled back from the cusp of heaven, he isn't ready for his sudden entanglement with the archangel Uriel. Yet she is his only comfort. So when he makes the biggest mistake of his life, and perhaps even causes Uriel to be cast out from Heaven, what's left to be done? Find a very big gun...**

**I know the angels are meant to be asexual, but I've made them female otherwise it screws up my entire plot, so please, don't hate me.**

**VERY IMPORTANT!- This will seem mildly like a Mary-Sue at some points. IT IS NOT! There is fluff, but there are maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaajor consequences, arguements, inperfections to the OC, the whole shebang. Please, take the time to actually read this, as I've actually put bloody thought into this. The story is not so much about the fluff, but about Chas's transition into manhood. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Constantine, or any characters affiliated with it, but I do own Uriel.**

"Are you going to shoot me, John?"

John Constantine had been standing alone on the rooftop of Raven Scar hospital, having just been left there by Angela only moments before, when he felt the 'presence'. Spinning around, shotgun cocked, he came face to face with a young girl, perhaps eighteen years old to the first appearance. But Constantine knew better. For a start, the wings were a big give away.

The girl looked up at him with large, turquoise eyes, a momentary glint of gold in the centre, and said:

"I'm not here for her." There was a particular emphasis on the word 'her'. "I don't support what she's done. She went against our father."

"She's your sister though," John said, trying not to be drawn in by the innocence of her eyes.

"Please, John! Gabriel's not my problem!" Her wings flared open slightly as she said this; she was getting angry. "Look, I haven't got much time!"

"Which one are you? Raphael? Sophael?"

"Uriel," the angel replied, "and I'm very busy. Now please, will you just take me down to the pool house?"

"Why?" he said, thrusting the gun at Uriel.

"Because my window to help him is closing fast!"

"Who?" The angel looked at him piercingly for a moment, and then he realised. He popped the cartridge out of the gun and lowered the barrel, the shell 'clinking' on the ground.

"Let's go," he said, and led Uriel into the building. As they came through the family room, she didn't even flinch at the demonic remains. Instead, she ran through the shattered cadavers of the hydrotherapy room doors, treading barefooted on the glass as if it wasn't even there. She left not even a trace of blood.

Constantine stepped into the room, looking down at the water with a frown. Gabriel was gone. He looked over at Uriel, whose wings had vanished, and saw her kneel beside the dead boy's form.

"Can you really bring him back?" he choked.

"I can try," she replied simply. She sat on the ground, lifting the boy's head onto her lap. Stroking his forehead, she felt a momentary flicker of warmth spread through her fingers. He was still within reach.

"Poor Chas," she whispered, then lay one hand over his eyes, and the other upon his chest.

"But doesn't this upset the Balance?" John said.

"No, it restores it. Gabriel made a real fuck-up when she killed; she committed an Earthly sin." With that, Uriel closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and suddenly the room was filled with brilliant white light. John shielded his eyes with his arm, squinting to see the two forms…

The tunnel of light was fading again, shrinking into the distance. Then there was a voice, calling his name…

"Come back, Chas. It's not your time. Come back."

A bust of air flooding his lungs, a splitting headache…

"Oh, Jesus!" His eyes opened, and he froze.

"Hello, Chas." He was looking up at a young girl, with striking bluish green eyes and rich ebony hair, and for a moment, he though he saw a pair of tawny wings. She stroked his forehead, and said,

"Feeling better?" Chas stuttered for a moment, then said

"I'm not dead?" The girl smiled, and helped him sit up, then leant in close and whispered in his ear,

"I want you to remember this moment," before brushing a kiss across his cheek. Chas swallowed and nodded, still mystified by this strange woman. Was she really an angel?

"Time to go, Chas." The girl slipped her hand in his, pulling him to his feet, and stepped back, looking him up and down. He brushed his hand through his hair nervously, and after fiddling around in his pockets for a moment, found his cap and pulled it on, bringing it low over his eyes. Uriel turned to John, who looked like he wanted to say something, but didn't know what. She looked at him darkly for a moment, and said,

"Take care of him." She looked over at the boy. "See you around Chas." She turned away from them both, gliding out of the pool house, and as she crossed into the light her wings erupted into existence, leaving her a shrinking silhouette.

Chas turned to John, who looked surprisingly blank, and said;

"I'm not dead, am I?"

**Please r&r folks!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Please r&r folks. I know it's a bit slow getting started, but it will get more exciting soon, I promise!**

As he drove through the rain, the road slick and shining under the streetlamps, Chas Kramer was a little more fractious than normal. It had been a little over a week since the events in the hospital, and he had been twitchy ever since. As he screeched through a red light, narrowly missing a silver Sedan, John reached through from the backseat of the car, laying a hand upon his shoulder.

"Take it easy buddy."

"Sure. Sure." Chas rubbed a hand over his forehead and slammed the steering wheel to the left, pulling up outside Papa Midnite's.

John led the way down the steep steps into the underground club, the drenching red lights making hiss eyes glint menacingly. As he reached the doorman, he felt a flicker of surprise when he held up _two_ cards. He looked at the skin headed thug inquisitively, who nodded at Chas.

"Two frogs on a wall," John said, and looked at his young companion expectantly as he crossed through the doorway. Chas stared wide-eyed at the card being brandished at him, and said jokingly;

"Pig in a blanket?" To his utter astonishment the doorman turned the card around to reveal a picture of a boar wrapped in a tartan blanket. Mouth still open, he felt Constantine pull on the collar of his shirt, dragging him into the club.

The dimly lit basement was full of unearthly forms as they crossed the floor. Crimson and emerald eyes glinted at them through the shadows, fluidic bodies moving in and out of the darkness. Chas felt them boring into his very being, and dropped his gaze, practically stepping on John's heels until they came to Papa Midnite's door. John stared at the steel slab commandingly, and a moment later a burly bouncer opened it inwards to a lavishly furnished room. The walls were burgundy, with posters plastered upon them, a wine red carpet beneath their feet. Against the far wall was a beech wood desk topped with studded leather, and sat behind it was a slender, coloured man in a long, faux suede coat and an open neck white shirt. He sat leaning on his elbows, steepled fingers resting upon his lips, and was listening intently to a woman sat opposite him. She sat with her back to the door, and was whispering hurriedly;

"It's not my fault, Midnite. I just did as I was told. I don't enjoy clearing up after my kin, you know. But Father said I had to do it, said it was important, said _he_ was important. So I fixed it.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" The woman had noticed Midnite's gaze had wandered slightly, and that he was now staring over her shoulder with a mixture of surprise and amusement. She spun in her seat, and Chas gasped. Looking up at him were a pair of turquoise eyes that had widened slightly. The girl had loose dark curls spilling down over her shoulders, and porcelain skin that he thought he saw fill with a slightly pink hue below her soft cheekbones. She stood hurriedly, pulling at her muslin over shirt, and Chas felt himself speak without meaning to;

"What the Hell is she doing here!"

"Just leaving," the girl said. She shot Midnite a warning filled glance, and brushed past Chas and John out of the doorway. Chas stared after her for a moment, then looked pleadingly at his mentor.

"Fancy a drink, John?" Midnite waved a decanter of scotch and Constantine stared down at his companion for a long moment, before nodding and saying;

"Just watch yourself." Chas grinned and ran out of the room into the club. His eyes scanned across the mass of heads and moved through the crowd, slowly getting frantic. All around him was darkness, pressing in on all sides. Perhaps she'd left the club. If she had she'd be too far away to find now. He spun in the dark, feeling hopelessly lost and very aware of all the eyes upon him, when he saw a flash of white. He focused for a moment, and saw her at the bar. She was slumped on a stool, her chin in one hand, a glass in the other. Chas crossed over to the bar and sat beside the girl, looking at her hard. She glanced up at him and sighed, before going back to nursing her drink.

"Can I help you?" she said. Chas took in the defeated air of the girl, and said;

"You're one of them, aren't you? You're Gabriel's sister. An angel."

"Yep. Yep. And yep, unfortunately."

"Oh," said Chas, "right." The girl took a sip of her drink, and Chas smiled as she wrinkled her nose at the fiery liquid coursing down her throat. It made her look young. Well, younger than she really was anyway.

"So, er, nice weather we're having, huh?" The girl laughed wrly for a moment, and replied half-heartedly;

"Yeah…"

Uncomfortable by the silence, Chas began drumming his fingers on the bar. Well, this was going great!

The angel glanced at him with a raised eyebrow for a moment, then downed the rest of her drink.

"Earth sucks," she said hoarsely. Desperate to rescue some sort of conversation at this point, Chas said;

"So, what's your name?"

"Huh, what?" The girl snapped out of her stupuor for a moment and looked up at her companion, who repeated;

"What's your name? You know, I'm Chas Kramer, the humble yet slightly neurotic cab driver, and you are…"

"Archangel Uriel, seraph and cherubim of the eight choir of Heaven, and the Flame of God."

"Oh, that's…nice." Chas took off his cap and pushed his hand through his hair. Uriel watched him with interest for a moment, then took the hat and spun it around on her index finger.

"You know," she said," you only do that when you're uncomfortable. Do I make you uncomfortable, Chas?"

"No. Well, kinda, I mean- look, did I die?" Chas just blurted the question out, tired of wondering.

"Do you really want to know?"

"I'll take that as a yes. God…"

"Don't blaspheme." Uriel looked at him eyes full of concern. Chas contemplated things for a moment, then said;

"I suppose it's ok tough. I mean, you brought me back, right?"

"I guess so," Uriel replied and handed back the cap, which he pulled over his eyes.

"Thank you," he whispered. Uriel looked at him for a long moment, now the pillar of solemnity, and said;

"Stay safe." With that she rose to her feet and glided out of the club. Chas watched her go, a new feeling of calm settling over him. Sure he'd died, but at least he'd got a glimpse of Heaven. Who would've imagined L.A would look so clean?


	3. Chapter 3

**Jack the Panda: **thank you so much for your kind review! My first review, sob I've come over all emotional, sob... And don't worry, we are going to see lots more of Uriel... (Angel-lover starts cackling ominously)... Ah, the Hell i'm going to put these characters through. You thought you knew evil... MWAH HA HA HA HA!

**Okay folks, things are starting to get a tiny bit more interesting now. And confusing... BUT STAY WITH ME, ALL WILL BECOME CLEAR IN TIME! Please, please, please review! I don't even mind if you tell me you hate it!**

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Thefigure watched her through the water intently, fetid air swimming around him. She sat at the bottom of a decrepit looking staircase, her golden head resting in a pale hand, and was weeping silently. The figure smiled. Even fallen, she had still reatained her Heavenly beauty...

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"Give me the damn shotgun, Chas!"

Constantine slammed the gold knuckle dusters into the soldier demon's gut, and reeled backwards as the creature fell to the ground, clutching at its wounds. John loomed over it, and it spat some incomprehensible words at him.He raised his fist, preparing for another blow, and the creature really _did_ spit at him.

"You little shit!" John wiped the slime from his face with a disgusted flick of his wrist, and delivered a sharp kick to his prey's ribs.

"How the Hell did you get here?" John hissed, forcing his foot onto the demon's chest. the creature looked up at him with oily black eyes, and grinned wildly.

"Chas, the gun!" Chas scrambled out from the back of the taxi, and threw the shotgun to Constantine, his eyebrows raised at the writhing soldier demon.

"I thought they couldn't-"

"I know!"

"But then how-"

"I don't know!"

"What're you gonna-"

"Chas!"

"Sorry." Chas sat on the hood of the car and watched John leer over the demon.

"How did you get through?" he growled. The demon didn't respond, and John pushed his foot down heavily. Chas wrinkled his nose as the creature's wails intermingled with the crack of bones. John leaned in closer to the demon, and repeated;

"How did you get through?"

"I was chosen," the creature seethed, and laughed wildly, black flecks of blood appearing round it's mouth. John forced the barrel of the gun against its head, and said;

"For what?"

"The greatest honour that can be bestowed." With that the demon gave up an almighty scream and burst into flames.

"Son of a bitch!" John stumbled backwards, and Chas jumped off the car, staring at the flames. After a few momnets they disintergrated, and all that was left was a charred mark upon the ground.

"Whoa," Chas breathed, "I guess this is the beginning of a very bad road, huh?"

"Mm..." John put the gun into the car, and tapped his apprentice on the shoulder.

"C'mon," he said, "I need a stiff drink."

Chas got into the car behind the wheel, and turned the key in the ignition as John shut the door. He was just about to put the car into gear when he froze, staring staight ahead. In the headlights was a tall figure with golden hair and emerald eyes set in fair skin.

"Shit..." he cursed, an icy lump sliding down his throat as Gabriel's gaze met his. her eys widened, and she suddenly moved, running into an alleyway off the edge of the road.

"Any time you're ready, Chas." John's voice brought him back to Earth with a bump. He changed the gearstick into neutral and sped out into the main road, trying to ignore the cold sweat that had broken out on the back of his neck.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello, my readers! Hope you're enjoying my little ramblings here!**

**Detroit: **Thanks for your review. I have been trying to keep Chas and John in character. It's hard, but I think I'm managing okay. Please folks, let me know if I slip up in this department!

**Fred the Duck: **Okay then… Thanks, I think… (I do actually personally know this woman. Disturbing, huh? Ah well, birds of a feather and all that! We love you Freddy!)

**Anyway, on with the tale…**

The figure drew a hand through the pool of water and the scrying mirror, and smiled as the image of the woman running through an alleyway broke. It was done…

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"Sit here. Don't move. Don't get yourself into trouble." Constantine forced Chas onto a couch in a secluded corner of the club and looked down at him sternly, saying;

"I'm gonna see if Midnite knows what the Hell is going on. I don't appreciate unwelcome visitors." He stalked off, leaving Chas sitting alone, leaning over with his hands wrung between his legs. He tapped his right foot in time with the music, hoping that his feeling of being watched was just down to good-ol'-home-grown-paranoia. He checked his watch, then rested his chin in his hands, feeling thoroughly miserable. Being the lap dog sucked.

"Chas?" The aforementioned looked up in surprise at the sound of his own name, and felt his heart lighten slightly as he saw Uriel. She was dressed in low-slung combats in a khaki green, and a white crop top with thin straps. Her long dark hair was flowing loose over her shoulders, and Chas was conspicuously aware of her bare midriff. He stood up and was half way through reaching for his cap when he stopped and grinned in slight embarrassment at his idiosyncrasy. Uriel laughed musically, and said;

"We have to stop meeting like this!" She stepped towards Chas, and he indicated t the couch, which she seemed to sink into grate fully. He sat on the other end, leaving a noticeable three feet between them. Uriel looked over at the bar, and a moment later a barman approached with two glasses of orange juice.

"You're driving tonight, right?" she said, handing Chas a glass.

"Uh, yeah." He clutched the drink silently, trying, and failing, to ignore the nervous twitch that he'd suddenly developed; a rapid tapping of his foot. An uncomfortable silence settled over them as it had before, and Chas muttered;

"So, nice weather we're having, huh?" Uriel giggled softly, and said;

"Glad to see your conversation topics have broadened so much!" Chas laughed, starting to relax a little. He wasn't a naturally nervous guy. Maybe it was just being around an all-powerful Elysian being that got him het up.

"So, what are you doing here, mister Kramer?" Uriel said, leaning towards him slightly.

"Aw, John's off having one of his little pow-wows with Midnite. You know, fluffy bunnies, rainbows, cup cakes, the works. So I've been dumped. You?"

"Just delivering a message of eternal damnation to a lost soul." She gave Chas one of those piercing looks, and he stiffened, eyes widening.

"I'm just kidding!" Uriel smiled softly and pushed up the peak of his cap so their eyes locked together. Chas felt himself drowning in her eyes, the colour of the purest ocean. He felt himself blushing, and, desperate to break the tension said;

"I saw Gabriel today!"

The effect that these four words had on his companion was astonishing. Her smile faded instantly, and she dropped her drink, the glass exploding on the floor. She slid off the couch and waved her hand over the pieces, which drew together before the repaired glass flew into her palm. She set it upon the coffee table in front of the couch, and looked up at Chas with an Earth shattering expression.

"Don't _ever_ say that name," she whispered. The boy felt his chest tighten as he saw the beginnings of tears in her eyes. He knelt on the floor beside her, spluttering frantic apologies;

"I'm sorry! I just thought you'd wanna know. She was your sister, after all. I just figured that, well… ah, shit…" Uriel avoided his gaze, touching her face thoughtfully.

"It's just, you're an angel, right? So your job is to love. And Gabriel would have been no exception, so I'd thought you'd wanna know she was okay, see?" Chas wanted to touch her, hold, even violently shake her if it would get a response. He sighed, then said tentivly;

"Uriel?"

"You're right, of course," she said dreamily, "it is my job to care. I've always been weak in the heart." She got to her feet and turned her back on him, saying

"You see, Chas, my name doesn't just mean 'Flame of God.' It can also be translated as 'the Flame of Love.'" She hurried away from him, disappearing instantly into the crowds. Chas thought about going after her for a moment, but then decided against it. What would he say? He flumped down heavily on the couch, and groaned.

"Chas Kramer," he muttered to himself, "you are a stupid ass!"

"Tell me something I don't know." The boy jumped, and looked up to see Constantine towering above him. "C'mon kiddo, time to go." He led them out of the club, and as they ascended to the street, Chas looked around for a sign of Uriel. Unsurprisingly, there was none. They got into the taxi, and John said;

"Home, Jeeves. I've just had a _very_ interesting conversation with Midnite."


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello my lovelies! I'm really enjoying this whole fan-fic experience. It's the first time I've done anything like this, and the feedback I've been getting back is so great. People are so sweet. I love people! Anyway…**

**Harley-the-Great:** thanks for your review. I understand what you're saying, OC's aren't everyone's cup of tea, but I think it's really great that you still have an open mind, and I really appreciate your opinion.

**Okay, for those of you who hate this whole flicking confusingly between scenes, I've managed to split them properly now, and an explanation of them will come soon. They tend to get a little more understandable as time goes on anyway. But I'm afraid, for now, prepare to be befuzzled, my sweets, because here comes another one…**

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In a dark room of a shoddy, broken-down motel, a woman stood naked before a full-length mirror. She traced her fingers over her body, gently caressing the bluish bruises. Pain was something she'd never get used to. She inspected her entire form, before her emerald eyes finally came to rest upon the part she dreaded… Her belly was sore, the normally soft flesh oddly tightened, as if already feeling an inward strain. She turned on her side, and studied the shape of her profile carefully. It couldn't be seen yet. She had no idea how fast it would be.

The woman suddenly flew at the mirror, breaking into noisy sobs, slamming her body onto the cold glass.

"Father!" she wailed, and slid down onto the floor. She buried her face in her knees, crying over and over again;

"Father! Father!"

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Chas sat in the middle of a desolate bowling alley, legs stretched wide, staring vehemently into the black hole at the end. He lifted a beer bottle to his lips and swallowed a mouthful, wrinkling his nose. It really didn't taste that great.

"You been in my fridge again?" Chas jumped as John's voice sounded behind him. "Guess this means you'll be bunking on my couch. Again. No driving under the influence an' all that." The exorcist sat by a scoring pillion and gave him a cynical look. Chas shuffled round so he sat facing his mentor and grinned sheepishly.

"I had a bad day?" he said, hoping it would be enough of an excuse.

"Mm-hm." John tutted, and said; "I'm sorry I left you alone at Midnite's. I figured it was better if you sat things out."

Chas grinned. Alone, huh?

"Oh, right," he responded in an over exaggerated manner, "and there I was thinking you wanted to wrap me up in cotton wool and shove me on a shelf!"

"Cute," said John, giving him a mock frown. He dug around in his pockets and produced a packet of chewing gum. Glaring at it, he muttered;

"I hate this stuff."

"Better than the alternative, Johnny-Boy," Chas said, "believe me." A sudden uncomfortable silence settled over the pair at this comment. It was the first time that Chas had directly though about what had happened to him, and a sudden weight had appeared in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't even really understand why it hurt so much. He was okay, after all. But it did.

Noticing the look on his apprentice's face, john decided he needed to change the mood, and said;

"So kiddo, seeing as how you're constantly bitchin' at me about being left behind, do you wanna know what Midnite told me tonight?"

"Cool!" said Chas, immediately brightening up. He shuffled along the alley so he ended up sitting perhaps four feet away from Constantine, looking like a kindergarten brat at storytime. "So, man, what happened?"

"He shit himself."

Chas burst into laughter at this, and said;

"What the Hell!" His mith vanished, however, when he saw John's face. He was staring at him moodily, and Chas realised perhaps this wasn't so funny.

"Finished?"

Chas nodded meekly, and John took an emphasised breath before continuing;

"I told him about the soldier demon and he practically crapped his pants. Said he'd been hearing rumours all week, about run-ins with renegade lower level demons. the real thing, not just half-breeds. So, i suggested he used the Chair. Said he already had. And what he saw was not good. There's a hole in the barrier between our plan and the preternatural one. Something came through, and left the door open. Things have got in. Folks are working on repairs, but Christ knows whta's already here."

John bit on a strip of gum and sighed heavily.

"I had an ordinary day once. I remember. It was a monday. I went fishing." Chas grinned slightly at the idea of John Constantine fishing.

"Catch anything big?"

"Jack Shit."

Chas stood up, draining the last of his beer, and clapped a hand on John's shoulder.

"Don't worry, Johnny-Boy. If we're really as screwqed as I think we are, at least you'll go down with a clean bill of health."

"Kid, you're everything a comedian should be, except funny." Chas shrugged off this comment and headed to the upper floor of the Bowlerama. As he flumped on the tattered brown couch though, the fear that he had covered only moments before eith humour hit him hard. Soldier demons were loose on Earth, he'd already seen that. But there could be anythng prowling the streets. Chas knew that they did terrible things just through possesion, desrtoying the witnesses emotionally as well as their vessels. John was enough evidence for that...

Chas slumped on the couch, feeling the beer ease into a twilight state between sleeping and waking. Clinging momentarily to the last few strands of conciousness, he prayed he didn't dream...

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In the street below, a young woman with self-illuminated turquoise eyes gazed up at the Bowlerama, hugging herself. There was a ripple through the air, undistinguishable to most, and she gasped. One of her children was dying...

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**Hm, okay. Not sure if I like this chapter. I'm beginning to suffer writers block. Please review and maybe it'll help! xxx**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey everybody! Sorry I've taken so long to update, I've had major writer's block issues. I've finally made a link, but it may be a bit weak. Let me know what you think, as I'm still struggling quite a bit.**

**Anyway, my big fat thank-you's:**

**Nathalie: **where would I be without you? Probably sitting in a corner of the library still sobbing cos I can't think of anything.

**Jack-the-Panda: **I guess the constant poking worked to inspire me in the end, as I couldn't stand it anymore, and had to write to save my very tender arm. I'm sorry I yelled at you, BTW.

**And to all those people who have been patiently waiting, I thank you. You are what keeps me going at the moment, as everyone hates me round here! Anyway, enough of my whining…**

_**Disclaimer: a teeny-weeny part of the book dialogue is lifted from the film, 'Prophecy'. Anyone who likes Constantine should go and watch this trilogy of movies right now. Also, if you do this, you will get a hint of where my story is going. MWAH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA! **Okay, I'm done…_

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"You're sure?"

"Constantine, this isn't right. It's not your average-Joe murder, it looks almost ritualistic. This was done with purpose, John."

John massaged his eyebrows, growing irritated with the near-hysterical man on the other end of the phone. _Don't shoot the messenger,_ he chided himself mentally.

"Constantine?"

"Alright, Derek, alright. I'll come down." John hung up the phone, and leant against the wall with a small groan. Being almost pleasant had just about sucked all the energy from him. People just weren't his forte.

Speaking of people…

John looked down at his couch, and had to suppress a grin. Chas was sleeping on his front, face on one side, mouth open like he was catching flies. His hat had slipped onto the floor, and his curls had frizzed. It was moments like this John remembered he was still little more than a kid. Shame to wake him really…

Chas almost fell off the couch as the soaking cloth collided with his face. He started, looked around blearily for a moment, then heard John call from his bedroom:

"I need a ride, kid."

Realising, where the cloth had come from, Chas felt annoyance welling up inside of him. Pulling his cap on with an angry tug, he yelled;

"Was that really necessary? Y'know, one day I'm gonna be taller, and then your fucked!" There was silence from the bedroom. This lack of response only served to peeve him further. "I mean it, man! One of these days I'm just gonna walk. There you'll be, minus one whipping boy! John? John, you son of a bitch!"

"Language, Chas," was the cool answer that came from the room.

"Argh, screw you!" Chas stomped down the stairs and out of the Bowlerama. He wrenched open the driver's side door of his taxi and got in, flumping sulkily onto the seat.

"Jerk!" he muttered, and seized a book from the dashboard, entitled 'The Temple of the Inner Sanctum; Protecting Your Soul.' He thumbed through the a few pages, eyes skimming over the words, until he paused suddenly on a chapter headed 'Angels; Your Guardians?' Feeling decidedly more interested, Chas traced his finger down the page, tongue between his teeth as he read;

_Angels are the winged messengers of God, but are not as benevolent as they may seem. If God needs a killing, he sends an angel. If God needs to set an example, he sends an angel. They are creatures whose sole existence is based on loving, yet they eternally heave one wing dipped in blood. If you must summon an angel for guidance, avoid the archangel Gabriel"-_

"No shit," Chas muttered.

"_- as he is entirely without a concept of morals. Instead, you should turn to the angel of wisdom, Raphael, or the anel who is considered to be most human, the archangel Uriel, for his divine light will not blind you. He shall be gentle, his voice soothing, and"-_

"Time to go."

"Holy fuck!" Chas almost shot through the roof as John spoke from behind. He hadn't even heard him get into the car.

"You speaking to me yet?"

"Er, yeah, I s'pose…" Chas replied vacantly, and shoved the book under his seat.

"Where to?"

"Figueroa street. And Chas?"

"Yeah?"

"You're staying in the car this time."

"Ah, what? You mean I've fought the son of Satan himself, not to mention getting' my ass seriously whooped, only to be resurrected-RESSURECTED, JOHN- and of course, being either brave enough or stupid enough to be a cab Driver in L.A, and you still won't let me come with you! I mean, God, John, what are you tryin' to say…"

Chas continued rambling as he sped through the city, back to his normal, reckless self. John shook his head, gazing out of the window at the rapidly passing buildings. When they pulled up at their destination, which was roped off with police tape, the boy was still going;

"Seriously though, man, you gotta let me in on this one. I swear, I'll watch my ass. No being a hero, no"-

"Chas! Stay in the car!" Constantine slammed the door, and stooped under the tape. A small, balding detective with a red face, and watery eyes came over to him, and began to talk to the exorcist animatedly. As they disappeared down an alley between two apartment blocks, Chas re-adjusted his mirrors and frowned.

"It's not like I wanna die again," he muttered bitterly. He seized the book from underneath the seat, and flicked through the pages till he came to where he left off:

"_-his voice shall be soothing, and you shall find yourself compulsively trusting him. However, guard yourself carefully, as he is a fierce protector of those he loves, and those who cross him will find the flame of God hanging perilously close to his skull. It is often said that Uriel's greatest weakness is his heart; those who hold his heart are both protected and in greater danger than is imaginable."_

"Boy…" Chas frowned at this last sentence, re-read it, then exhaled. "Angels are complicated." He couldn't help feeling a little discomfort at delving into information about Uriel. It seemed, from what he knew of her, pretty accurate though. He thumbed through the rest of the book, searching for anything else on angels, but that was it. Shoving the volume back on the dashboard, he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, whistling tunelessly for a moment, then checked his watch. It'd only been fifteen minutes.

"Argh, screw this!" Chas got out of the car and crossed the police line, which was blissfully vacant of officers. Following the path he's seen Constantine take earlier, he wandered down the alleyway…

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John felt a headache as he looked down at the body.

"I knew she'd be your sort of thing," Derek said. "Cleared the area moment I saw her." The detective took a cotton handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped it over his bald patch, wiping away beads of sweat. "Pretty nasty, huh?"

John smiled callously. Derek didn't know the half of it.

The young woman before them had been leant against the wall, her blouse torn open, a bloody inscription of curving lines etched into the blanched skin of her chest. Her arms were gathered into her lap as though she was casually sitting, and her short blond hair had been staunched with blood from a head wound around her left temple.

Apart from the calling card carved into her chest, the girl could've passed for a pretty normal murder victim in Los Angeles. But to Constantine, she was so much more.

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**Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell, what do you think? And before you ask, the girl is not an old flame! Please review!**


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